Awakening
by OnceOrTwiceAMinuteAllSummer
Summary: In which Hal and Annie begin to see each other as more than friends. On going project now me thinks. Thanks to everyone for all their lovely comments!
1. Chapter 1

"Please, little...Eve, I don't understand what you want! Please don't do that...it's...you can't cry! I did everything the rota said, everything! Annie! ANNIE!"

Hal's bellows reach me upstairs and I sigh as I rent-a-ghost down, knowing from experience that one hour of looking after Eve will have turned Hal into a quivering, desperate mess. Sure enough, I find the ancient vampire sat on the sofa gingerly holding my baby, whose tiny face is scrunched and bright red.

I go and relay my usual spiel for these situations, which mainly consists of "Yes, Hal, I'm here, calm down, she's fine, don't worry, calm-"

"She's crying Annie," Hal interrupts, managing to look offended and terrified at the same time, which is actually quite impressive. "People, babies, do not just cry for nothing, there's something wrong, I just, I can sense it. Jesus what if I've held her too tightly and she's dying of internal b-bleeding, Christ, or what if she's got meningitis, Good Lord, Annie, quick, call a physician, I'll pretend to be gay again, I'll wear the tank top, I swear, anything, just _please _let...oh"

Eve stops crying as soon as I take her off him and cradle her gently in my arms. For a moment, Hal looks completely dejected and my heart breaks a little bit for him.

"Why doesn't she like me Annie? I've tried so hard, I _try _so hard...maybe she can sense the monster inside me. That's it. She's scared of me. Jesus."

He buries his face in his hands and heaves a sigh which seems to rack his entire frame. I can't bear to see him like this and forget that _this is Hal, Hal with his ridiculous levels of OCD...ness who doesn't like being touched and probably won't appreciate some ghost messing up his do _and reach out to hesitantly run my fingers through his hair _which is just as soft as I thought it would be - not that I've been thinking about Hal's hair, goodness no, just that it looked soft and I've always wondered if he conditions, yes that's it, and-_

I see the muscles in his back tense and stiffen, and begin to pull my hand away when I feel him relax into my touch, resting his head against my hip and allowing me to continue. I begin to follow a pattern, remembering briefly that Hal appreciates order and familiarity, and run my fingers through the short hair at his temple, along the curve of his head then veer slightly to the left, close enough to almost graze his ear. I lose count of how long I stand there for, cradling Eve in one arm and marvelling at how _right _it feels to be calming him like this, and stunned into silence by the scent and sight and feel of him and this moment. I feel the urge to thread my fingers gently through the soft hairs at the base of his head, and my ghostly heart skips a beat when Hal _whimpers_ quietly. The small noise breaks the silence, and startles me into the realisation that I'm _stroking Hal's hair. _I can't cope with that because I've just realised that Hal whimpering and being all dependent and vulnerable just does _something to me_. I shake my head to clear my thoughts and resume my original hair-stroking path as I use my best defence mechanism; talking.

"You're right" I begin, stupidly I realise a second later as he stiffens again. "No! No no no I don't mean _right _as in _right, _I mean right as in that Eve can sense things. She's very clever you know, especially gifted linguistically." I feel him chuckle gently against my side, but choose to debate Eve's capabilities another time when I'm more coherent and _his warm head isn't pillowed snugly against me, his breath gusting against my leg and_- no Annie. Bad Annie. Continue with the talking. "She can sense that you're not comfortable with her, that you're a bit nervous and on edge. You just need to calm down and breathe when everything gets panicky. She loves you, you know that. Just be her fun, brave Uncle Hal and that'll be enough for her."

I realise that Hal's looking up at me, head still resting on my hip and my hand still absently running through his hair, my fingers now drawing soothing circles against his smooth, cool temple. His eyes are round and trusting, and try as I might I can't look away. We've never had a conversation this intense and, and _deep,_ and I don't know what to do with this new, unexpected and totally endearing side to him.

"Really?" he breathes.

"Yes. I promise"

"And you Annie? What do you think of me?"

His question stills my hand for a second, and my breath catches but I just can't look away from those _gorgeous_ eyes. I panic.

"I, erm, gosh, I don't, yes, well, _that's_ a question, indeed, what do I think of, well, erm-"

I hesitate as I begin to think, really think, about my feelings towards _this _Hal, this new, never before seen version, without his arrogance and 'I'm better than you' vibe. Hal obviously mistakes my pause and starts to pull away, looking hurt. For some reason him pulling away right now seems like the worst thing in the world.

I drag him gently back to rest his head against me and stroke his head again.

"Hal, no, stop. I – I mean _we, _Tom and I, we, er, we love you too. OK? So just, you know, we do."

He sighs in what I'm pretty sure is relief and nuzzles my hip slightly before standing. Good. I'm glad. Whatever that was, was too much, too intense, and caused too many new feelings and thoughts. I release a breath I didn't know I was holding and gently shift a now sleeping Eve in my arms. I look up and smile at Hal, watching him hesitate and smile shyly back. We stand in silence for a moment until he raises his arms awkwardly, and for a moment I think I'm going to die from shock _if I wasn't already, you know, dead_, when he seems to forget his dislike of touching for a second time tonight and wraps me in a hug, Eve gently squeezed between us. His hands come to rest protectively at the base of my spine and I feel for a second like I'm part of one of those beautiful young families you see on adverts, the strong, handsome husband embracing his young wife and baby lovingly. Hal looks down at me and there's a breathless moment when I realise that _we're so close I can count his eyelashes and see the tiny freckles on his nose and feel his breath ghosting, ha, across my lips and if I lean in just a few more inches-_

"I have to go!"

Hal looks as surprised as I am at my outburst. His arms quickly fall away as he begins to frown in what seems to be confusion, and I just about notice through the red hot haze of my embarrassment that he's barely even listening to my gabbling.

"I, erm, yes, goodness, there's so much to do! I have to...defrost the, er, the swimming pool! Yes. That. What I just said, is...what I have to do..."

Hal nods distractedly and I take that as a cue to hurry as quickly as I can from the room. At the door I quickly look back before I run up to the sanctuary of Eve's room, and realise that Hal's still standing in the middle of the living room, looking as scared and bewildered by what just happened as I feel.


	2. Chapter 2

8.15 prompt. That's Hal's breakfast time. It's in his rota, set down clearly and specifically in black and white, and we all stick to it, because it gives Hal a structured start to the day _ and makes it more likely that he won't, you know, tear a mouthy customer's head off._ But the morning after, the, erm, the _Moment,_ as I started calling it in my head at about half 4 this morning, _not that, you know, I've been replaying it over and over because, gosh, that would be silly,_ Hal is late coming down to breakfast. Late. Hal. The vampire who I know for a fact will stand next to his chair if he is early and stare at his pocket watch until it reads _exactly _8.15, to the second, before allowing himself to sit down, is late. I've been watching the clock in the living room since at least ten past, my breath catching when the minute hand slides to 3, eyes flickering to the door. I've not seen him since, well, you know, and the thought that soon he'll be here, eating _breakfast _and – and drinking _my tea_, terrifies me. It takes all my will power not to rent-a-ghost away from this kitchen and him and that stupid _moment which obviously meant absolutely nothing I mean so we nearly kissed people do that all the time right_? _Right. _The seconds tick by, and anxiety mixed with _maybe _the slightest bit of anticipation melts into frustration as he fails to appear. It reaches twenty-five past, and I realise that he's not coming, and I huff as I give up waiting and blindly grab Tom's plates and Eve's empty bottle, walking into the kitchen and slamming them down on the side. Well, not slamming exactly. No matter how hurt I am that Hal is clearly avoiding me I would never take it out on a plate. But I do place them on the counter more forcefully than usual. So there.

I walk back into the living room after washing Tom's plates, glance at the clock and freeze when I spot _him_, a whole 19 minutes and 10 seconds late and sat in his usual place with a bewildered Tom staring at him across the table over the top of his morning newspaper. Eve is blinking her big blue eyes and gurgling at him, her tiny hands clapping clumsily together, but Hal doesn't even glance in her direction. As I draw closer, I note the purple rings and unfocussed eyes that indicate a disturbed night's sleep. His _soft, thick _hair is mussed so badly that it gives a whole new definition to the phrase _bed head_ and he's still in his pyjamas. I'm almost too stunned by this unprecedented turn of events to notice how tight his white vest is, _and the way it clings to his toned chest, which I know for a fact is just as hard and strong as it looks because he held me tenderly against it not twelve hours ago and- _Crap. Well I did say _almost_ didn't I?

He mutters a quick 'Good morning' without looking up at either of us, opting instead to concentrate on touching the tips of his fingers to his thumb in some strange pattern that I can't make out. As usual, I begin to chatter, realising I've never jabbered this badly or for this long and hating myself as Tom looks at me completely gone out and Hal continues to ignore my existence.

"So!" I trill, "A nice cup of, of tea Hal? Yeah, nice cuppa, cup o' char, as the cockneys say, or is that a Yorkshire thing? Hmm, Google time I think, 'cos I'm not sure w-with that one! Haha, yes, well, gosh, of course you want a cup of tea! Black with a splash of cold water yes? That's your usual guv'! Haha there I go with the, the, er, the cockney again!"

I wince at my ridiculousness, wringing my hands as I let out a slightly hysterical laugh, and pause, staring at him expectantly.

"I don't want any tea. Thank you though."

"Oh...Ok, that's, yes that's Ok no problem"

I awkwardly hover at the table then sit down quickly as Tom pipes up.

"Yer can have today off yeah Hal? Yer look a right state mate, don't want yer frightenin' off the punters yeah?" Tom's concerned puppy dog eyes focus on Hal's bowed head then turn to me. I silently reprimand Tom, mouthing at him that this clearly was not the most tactful thing to say whilst frowning furiously. He shrugs balefully back, then turns just in time to catch Hal nod and mumble something about not sleeping well. Tom shoots me another worried glance before hurrying out of the living room. I hear him tug on his coat and heavy boots then flinch slightly when he slams the front door. _Honestly, boys._

I look down nervously as I realise that it's just me and Hal in the house, alone, _well, alone-ish_. I knot my fingers together, gathering enough courage to look up at him. When I finally do he's –

Gone.

Of course.

I scoop Eve up and trudge upstairs, feeling less solid than I've felt in a long while, since, well, certain things happened and certain people _left me all alone_. I reach the attic and silently begin prepare Eve for her morning bath, sighing heavily.

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I don't see Hal all day. His room door is firmly closed when I walk past it to put Eve down for her nap later on in the afternoon, and when I linger outside for a few seconds I can hear the faint strains of the classical music he loves so much.

I wander down to the kitchen and make a cup of tea, then realise there's no one to drink it. The thought hits me like a kick in the gut and I drop the mug, frozen in shock as I watch it fall in slow motion and then smash loudly on the gaudy linoleum. The crash shatters the silence like a bullet. I crouch down, intending to gather up the broken pieces of crockery, but somehow I end up with my back resting against the counter and tears pouring down my face as I stare blankly at the mess I've made. I bite my lip to quieten my sobs, but I know I've failed when I hear footsteps running down the stairs accompanied with a deeply concerned shout of "Annie, what's going on?"

Hal charges into the kitchen, looking around wildly, and I cringe away from him, trying to cover my face with my hands and wipe away my tears in a futile attempt to hide that I've been crying.

"Annie? What's wrong? I heard a crash and...oh. I see."

"I just made a c-cup of t-tea" I hiccup through my fingers, "but there was nobody here and it f-fell, Oh _God _it _fell..."_

Just reliving the moment makes tears well up and spill over my cheeks, and I curl up and bury my head against my knees. Through my abject misery, I hear Hal gather up the broken shards of china, throw them away, and then grab the mop. I continue to cry, first because _I made tea for nobody and that realisation felt too much like the lonely weeks before Mitchell and George found me and the grief stricken days after Mitchell left me, and Nina went to the shops and never came back, and George wasn't George anymore. _And then I grieve because I came so close to having a family again with Hal and Tom but it's slipping away all because of one tender whim and my ridiculous ponderings about which hair products Hal uses. And now, well now he _can't even look at me, won't drink my tea and what if he leaves, what if they both leave, what will I have then? Nothing, all over again._

I don't know how long it takes me to pull myself together. When I finally lift my head my eyes are dry and sore and I _ache and it still hurts so much that I can barely breathe. _I look to my left and realise that Hal has settled himself on the floor next to me, leaning against the cabinets with his legs neatly crossed and his arms resting on them. He is staring into the middle distance, and I can practically feel the awkwardness radiating off him. Of course, a man's worst nightmare is a sobbing woman, and I know that because Hal is a gentleman he will attempt to comfort me, and I also know that that will probably end up with me feeling a lot worse and a hell of a lot more embarrassed than I already do about my complete hysteria over a broken cup and an almost kiss in the living room.

I'm too numb from crying to feel shocked when, without looking at me, he reaches out and takes my hand. He presses his palm against mine then entwines our fingers, his thumb rubbing soothingly against my wrist. We sit in silence for a long while, hands clasped, until he turns to face me, shifting his whole body so that his legs are curled to his left and his head still rests against the cabinet, dark hair flattened against its white surface. He lifts his left hand and reaches across to gingerly cup my face and wipe away a few stray tears with his thumb. I close my eyes and lean slightly into his cold but comforting touch.

"Annie?" He whispers.

I open my eyes and hum slightly to show that I'm listening.

"I'd really love that cup of tea. If the offer still stands?"

"Yes. Of course it does."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I blushed a lot when I wrote this. Just so people know that I still have some shame. Thanks for everyone's kind comments, they mean a lot! Hope you enjoy this chapter and well, happy reading!**

**Oh and disclaimer! Yeah I, surprisingly I know, do not own the awesomeness that is Being Human, much to my eternal disappointment.**

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"_When people ask of me, what would you like to be, now that you're not a kid anymore? I know just what to say..."_

Susan Maughan's voice is ringing through the house again, the jaunty 60's tune bouncing through the rooms, completely at odds with the tale of hopeless, unrequited love that she sings of. Hal and I have argued about the ridiculously high volume he plays his music at, and the arse managed to draw the argument to a swift conclusion in his favour.

"_But these are classics! They've endured the test of time, and the harmonies and chord progressions are frankly spectacular, far superior to that 'Tiny Striding' idiot you're so fond of. Besides, Annie I need my music...it reminds me of Pearl and Leo, and the shop, and I need it"_

"_Fine," _I remember shouting back,_ "but mark my words, one day your volume control problems will come back to bite you in the arse, mister!"_

Although I would _never _tell Hal, I must admit that I bob my head slightly in time to the music, humming along to the now familiar tune as I carry the clean, sweet smelling laundry upstairs, knowing that in a few hours Tom will discover the neat pile sitting on his bed and proceed to litter his floor with it in what I'm sure is a carefully calculated plan to drive me _completely and utterly insane_. I walk past the bathroom just in time to hear Hal, a 500 year old vampire old one, declare loudly with Susan in a high falsetto singing voice that he wants to be "Bobby's girl". I bite my lip and duck my head in order to stifle a laugh and hurry past, determined to mention this at dinner.

Actually, on second thoughts, I realise that that's probably not the best idea. Over the past two days since my pint-sized breakdown in the kitchen, Hal's taken to treating me like a ticking time bomb that might go off again at any minute. He also looks like he's praying I won't explode whilst he's in the immediate vicinity. If I mentioned anything about his singing he'd probably never utter another note out of the sheer terror that I'd somehow find out and cry on him again. I don't know what he's so worried about. He handled my tears better than I could ever have, allowing me to make him and myself a steaming mug of tea which we then drank in silence. By the time Tom came home to find us both sitting at the table, cradling our respective mugs, it was almost as if nothing had happened. Later, when I asked Tom to scrape the food off his plate before I washed it, I realised that my little cry was probably just what I needed, and I felt renewed and refreshed and finally ready to move on and forget about it. Until two seconds later Tom discovered the broken remains of the mug in the bin.

"Annie, there's yer favourite mug in 'ere and it's all broken, look!"

Hal eyed me warily, looking alarmed and concerned about the effect of Tom's sudden discovery on my already fragile grip over myself. I held his gaze as I said airily "It's fine. Just an accident, nothing to worry about, I mean, a mug's easy to replace right?"

Hal had looked incredibly relieved, mouth twitching in the semblance of a mile as he huffed out a breath and joined me by the sink to help me dry and put away.

He's kinder but more cautious than before, and I've looked up more than once to find him staring at me with a slight frown during our viewings of Antiques Roadshow or Bargain Hunt, only for him to stare quickly in the opposite direction when he realises that I've noticed him looking. I most definitely, definitely have not been sneaking quick glances at him either. And I would be extremely put out if anyone accused me of managing to find a surprising number of jobs which mean I have to walk past Hal's open room door on numerous occasions at precisely 2pm on Saturday afternoons. Because it might lead to people realising that Hal is _very topless for a whole hour _from 2 onwards while he does his afternoon press ups, and could cause aforementioned people to get the wrong idea. I've just been very, very busy, doing...things in that specific area of the house, like, you know, tidying, obviously, and dusting, and smoothing out...the, erm, you know...the w-wall paper. Yeah. And if, you know, I pause slightly to watch his progress, and happen to notice _his low slung trousers which accentuate his slim hips as they practically thrust downwards and his arms, God, his arms, strong but not too big and so well toned that you can see the muscles shifting and bunching under his pale skin as he pushes that sculpted torso up and- _

Ahem. Well. I'm doing it for his own good aren't I? Making sure he doesn't over do it, because I'm a good housemate, and that's what good housemates do.

I smile as a new track starts up, one that I most definitely approve of. The Shirelles begin to sing 'Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" Shirley Alston Reeves' voice muffled through the bathroom door but distinctive none the less. I bop along to it, singing quietly and fondly remembering Sunday afternoons at my grandparent's house a lifetime ago, Gramps' ancient gramophone blaring out this record while I sat in one of their big armchairs, feet swinging and dangling off the edge and clapping my hands delightedly as my grandparents and uncles and aunts and parents danced around the room.

Much to my disappointment, Hal's portable tape player suddenly switches off in the middle of the song, indicating that he's out of the shower and the bathroom's free. I separate the freshly laundered towels from Tom's clothes and head down the corridor, humming the remainder of the song and pushing the door open-

Gnhh.

That's the precise noise my brain makes when I realise that I've walked in on Hal. In the shower. Naked. He's _naked. _Did I mention he's, erm, he's naked? Got no clothes on and...all...naked.

For a few seconds time practically grinds to a halt and I'm too shocked to do anything but stare. He's facing me, but his body is angled slightly to the left, head tilted back into the shower spray and eyes screwed shut against the water. His hands are raking through his hair, and if the cloying smell of lavender and ylang-ylang is anything to go by he's scrubbing away the remains of the conditioner he's just used. The dim, triumphant thought that _I was right, he does condition, I knew it, _permeates through my paralysed mind. The sopping wet hair that I seem to have some worrying fixation with after _The Moment_ is flat against his head, sending droplets of water running quickly down his face, along his smooth arched neck and across the sharp, broad lines of his collar bones to pool at the base of his throat. His pale skin is glistening with water, stretched taught over his flexing biceps and strong chest as he washes his hair clean. Hal's body is _sinfully _attractive, all long and lean with strong, manly lines and a perfect, taut stomach that has dimples and ridges where the understated and graceful muscles show. His broad shoulders accentuate his trim waist, and I can't help but follow the mouth-watering and subtly defined V-shape his gently protruding hips create, and which draws the eyes perfectly down to-

My eyes slip past waist level, just for a second and completely accidentally, honestly, I swear, and the sudden realisation that it's _Hal, oh my Gosh it's Hal standing there and he's naked and wet in the shower which is wet_ brings me quite rapidly and effectively out of my frozen, shocked state and causes me to emit the shrillest, loudest, girliest, most disturbing squeaky screamy noise that I've ever heard. And I've been to purgatory. My lovely, newly washed towels drop to the floor with a thump as I clap both hands to my mouth and through my utter embarrassment I think _I'm going to have to wash them again_. His eyes snap open at the admittedly _ungodly _noise that I've unleashed upon the world and he squeals, honest to God squeals, and moves his hands down to cover himself so fast that his arms are a blur and spins quickly to face the wall _which just so happens to present me with a rather lovely view of his broad back, strong spine flowing down to those, well, there's no other word for it, __sexy__ little dimples in his lower back just above his pert, round-_

"ANNIE!" he bellows, in such a high pitched voice that he could easily be mistaken for a woman. Then I recall the last few seconds and blush deeply at the thought _that Hal most definitely could NOT pass for a woman. At all. No wonder he managed to seduce his way around the world with those assets, especially that impressive-_

"Annie! Fucking _hell_, what the blazes do you think you're doing? I'm in the bloody shower woman, are you insane? GET OUT!"

I gasp and rent-a-ghost out as quickly as possible, reappearing outside the bathroom door. I wring my hands nervously as he storms out almost immediately after me, clutching a towel tightly around his waist and glaring at me with such malice that I'm surprised I don't combust right here on this worn and threadbare patch of carpet. I desperately try to formulate some kind of coherent and sensible excuse, but being me, I launch into a stuttering, panicky speech which does nothing to diffuse the situation and instead just conveys how flustered I am.

"Well you left the door open! Without the, the l-locks appropriately locked and everything! And the music went off! It just, it stopped! And everyone knows when the music stops Hal gets out and the shower s-s-_stops_ and we can go in the bathroom and put towels there! And that's all the innocent people of this h-household wanted to do, it never crossed our mind that you might still be there all naked and wet and-and _gorgeous_ and conditioning!"

I pause when I realise what I've said and slap my hands to my mouth in a desperate attempt to stop the words that have already escaped. He looks completely baffled and freezes, staring at me with his mouth agape. Damn. His mouth opens and closes, and he manages to sputter out a few indignant words, mainly consisting of "I...you think that...I..._what_?"

And that's the last thing I hear before everything becomes too much and I rent-a-ghost away to Eve's room and safety, plunking heavily down on the rocking chair and trying desperately to cool my cheeks. I've not rent-a-ghosted away from an awkward situation in years. I'm meant to be a grown up now, I'm a _mum_ for goodness' sakes. What the _hell_ is Hal doing to me?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you again to everybody for their lovely reviews! I don't think Annie would really go for Adam seeing as he's, you know, a massive twat. But hey, it's fanfiction so anything could happen. I read a fic the other day about the unrequited love between Hagrid and a certain sorting hat, which was interesting and I must admit also slightly disturbing. Especially when they...**

**Anyway a certain review did give me inspiration for a whole new feature you'll be pleased to know! From now on, I intend to kick off each chapter in style with a countdown of the top 50 actors that I'd rather like to, as they so delicately put it, 'fck'. So first, right up there in top, prime and pole position, is the amazingly gorgeous Damien Molony. Because God, when he starts doing press ups I start swooning, as my flatmates will tell you. Anyway, on with the story, and keep tuned for more Hal and Annie and the all important name of the lucky actor who gets second place ;) enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Hal's drunk. And Tom's stupid. But in the morning, I still won't own Being Human and...Something, something, something. **

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The mobile that hangs above Eve's cot is pretty. I mean, as far as vampire repelling equipment goes it's beautiful. It's one of the few things that indicate a little girl, a whole, growing, girly life, albeit a very tiny one, lives in this crappy little attic room. The crucifixes hanging from it are bright pink, as befits a little girl, which goes against the advice of all the parenting articles I've ever read, and so lead to me panicking for a whole week that the intensely pink mobile would _reinforce her future beliefs in society's preconceived ideas and tendency towards gender assigned roles_. My girl is destined to be a saviour, a perfect human being, one that others will look up to and _revere, worship as the one who will rid the world of vampires. _

She's the _chosen one. _

In a totally non-clichéd Harry Potter way, obviously. And so she has to be open minded, and accepting, and fair to all. But Hal managed to persuade me that a bit of pink wouldn't hurt, and wouldn't turn her from her rightful path and into one of those awful, chavvy teenage mums you see on the estate down the road.

I remember when we made it, because I'd insisted that she'd already had a ridiculous amount of sadness in her short life, and I'd made it worse, and I needed to make it up to her by giving her one pretty thing in this horrible, creepy, half finished room that passes for a nursery, with its litter of broken debris and bad memories. It was the afternoon that I'd shouted, a lot, because I'd had an incredibly difficult day with Eve who _just would not settle_ and then Tom had trailed mud through the house yet _again and I'd spent all afternoon scrubbing the floors til they sparkled. _Tom had just stood there holding Eve, both of them blinking at me with round, scared eyes while I shouted and Hal tried to watch TV, occasionally throwing me dirty looks and pointedly turning up the volume. I completely missed that Eve had begun to cry until she started screaming so loudly that it broke though my tirade and I stopped mid-sentence, completely destroyed by the realisation that _I'd made my lovely baby girl cry. _Her eyebrows were drawn together, eyes wide and bottom lip pouting hugely, face bright red with tears streaming down her chubby cheeks. She was throwing her tiny fists in the air, and clinging tightly to Tom's t-shirt while he rocked her and held her close, babbling down in incoherent baby talk in an attempt to calm her. I never thought that she'd be scared of me, not in a million years, and I rushed over and scooped her up, tears dripping down my own face as I shushed her and glanced wildly between the boys, finally screaming at Hal to turn off the bloody TV and _do _something. Needless to say, by the time Eve was calmed and put down successfully, it was extremely late, Hal was exhausted, angry and thoroughly dishevelled after having to change shirts when Eve spat up on him, Tom had sloped off to bed and I was still completely guilt ridden.

"I mean what if I've scarred her for life? What if she now associates me with shouting a-and anger and fear and _scary? _Oh God, she's going to hate me!" I wailed, trotting in Hal's wake as he strode purposefully downstairs to calm himself with some recorded late night Antiques Roadshow. I continued to prattle as each antique was valued, briefly pausing in my rant about Eve's mental health and the negative connotations she must now associate me with in order to guess an estimate. Inevitably Hal snapped, turned off the TV and reminded me in an extremely uncivil manner that Eve is a baby, who would never remember this most recent catastrophe and besides would probably end up being more emotionally scarred by the fact that she had an intangible ghost for a mother, and a half wit of a werewolf and a brutal 500 year old killer as her only father figures.

I shut up quickly at this, curling in on myself and feeling rather hurt.

"I'm incredibly tangible, thank you very much." I mumbled in response.

He glanced over at me and I saw his face soften as he sighed slightly.

"I'm sorry Annie, that-that was cruel of me."

"I know I'm being silly, I just, I want to make it up to her, if I can, you know, do something special so that she knows how...sorry I am."

He looked pensive for a moment, head bowed in thought before asking "You're always saying you want little Eve to have something pretty for her room, yes?" I nodded. "Well, then, something pretty she shall have."

And so he'd stayed up with me and we worked through the night, creating a mobile from a few pieces of old wood, various tins of pink sampler paints that were left over from when Nina found out Eve would be a girl and some sparkly diamante stickers and glitter that Hal found in a drawer in the kitchen. We didn't talk much, mainly listening to the telly in the background whilst we glued the thin strips of wood together – we decided that crucifixes were the way forward – and painted and decorated them. Finally, at seven in the morning, covered in paint and shedding glitter we trudged upstairs to hang the mobile up over a sleeping Eve so that it would be the first thing she saw when she woke. And I'll never forget the look on her little face when she saw it, her eyes sparkling as Hal gently span it for her so it would catch the light from the window.

I spin it now, to take my mind off the reason for my self-imposed exile to Eve's room. I've been up here for a good hour now, watching Eve sleep and just, well, thinking. About things. And 'things' do not include_ vampire housemates in showers, definitely not, because that would be weird. So stop it Annie._

_God_ why the _hell _did I have to bloody say that I thought he was g-gorgeous. What a bloody stupid thing to say to someone you've just walked in on n-naked! He must hate me now, must think I'm a pervy weirdo ghost who pervs on people like a-a-a _pervert, _and I'm not it's just that his stupid, crappy music turned off and-

I practically jump out of my skin when there's a sudden sharp rapping on the door accompanied by a shout of "Annie! Annie, open this door! I know you're in there, and I need to discuss something with you!" Buggery _sod_ it's _him_. Butterflies of the extremely unpleasant and nauseating variety appear in my stomach and I pull the arms of my cardigan over my hands, fingering the grey wool in an attempt to calm myself. It really doesn't work.

I panic. I can't face him, the embarrassment's too hot and fresh, and so I desperately shout back "I'm not here!" before cringing when I realise I've made myself look like even more of a tit. There's a pause and I can practically hear his eyebrow raising.

"_Really _Annie? Did that _really _just happen?"

I worry the cuffs of my jumper frantically and shout "No! And I'm still not here! This is Annie's...identical twin...sister?" I cross my fingers and hope that all that blood's somehow damaged his brain and I'll get away with avoiding him for pretty much the rest of my afterlife _ which is totally possible, I mean, I could pass for my identical twin sister right? Bit of make-up, tie my hair back, sorted. Renée did it on ''Allo, 'Allo,' so I mean, how hard can it-_

"Annie, for God's sake, stop being _ridiculous_ and let me in!"

Yet another pause and I press my lips together, hoping that if I stay quiet enough for long enough he'll eventually tire and _go away. _

"I'm not budging from this door until you let me in!" Damn. "And let me tell you, I am incredibly patient!"

I see nothing else for it, and so walk hesitantly to the door, unlocking it then springing back. Hal, of course, hears the click and practically throws it open immediately, walking swiftly in and throwing me a concerned look. He shuts the door and without pausing for breath he starts talking at me whilst pacing around the room, hands gesturing wildly and eyes trained on the carpet.

"Ha, well, I've been thinking, and what I've concluded is that nothing of any great importance has happened. So you walked in on me in, in, well, a _compromising _position, I mean, that's normal," he scoffs, "we _live _together! It was bound to happen one day, with your frankly alarming propensity to rent-a-ghost around the house, and now that it finally has, well Jesus, so what? I'm fine, you're fine, we're all _perfectly _fine!" He looks rather wild eyed now, and has stopped pacing to stare at me with such intensity that I blush. His hair is mussed and still slightly damp from his,_ ahem_, shower, and, gosh, the top few buttons on his hastily thrown on polo are unfastened and I can see a slice of that beautiful chest and his shirt is so _tight_, damp patches where he's not dried properly causing it to cling to him. Crap. And now I'm imagining him naked. Again. I take a deep breath and decide to take the plunge. Better it's all out in the open than festering away, hidden and secret.

"But what about me, saying...you know...that _thing _that I said about y-you, because it was a total accident, I didn't mean it! I mean, wait, no, not that I-I mean you're bad looking! Gosh, no, quite the opposite, you-"

He flaps his hands, forehead creasing as he interrupts me "No Annie, erase it completely from your memory. You are a lady and-and so were _shocked, _and rightly so, and then, well then you panicked at my completely misplaced anger and the scandalous nature of the situation and tried flattery in an attempt to mollify me. Correct?" He looks at me appealingly, one hand stretched out in supplication as we both try to skirt around the facts, building makeshift attempts at the truth in order to uncomplicate things that have been blossoming since maybe even before _The Moment in The Living Room_. Our mutual denial both saddens and relieves me.

"Yes." I whisper, staring at him. "That's, that's right. It was an accident and I'm sorry, and it won't happen again"

"Good. Excellent. Right, so, we're fine, yes? We're, I mean, we're still...friends?" He looks so scared about my answer that I nod almost before he's finished speaking, hurriedly saying "Yes! Yes, of course we are" and forcing a smile. He looks so heartbreakingly relieved that I can't help but walk to him and grasp his hand tightly. It's cool and dry but soft, and feels..._right _in mine. I glance up at him through my eyelashes and realise for the second time in as many days that we're uncomfortably close and _wow, I really have to sort out my personal space invasion issues because this is starting to get ridiculous. _He smiles uncertainly down at me and my mind goes completely blank. Luckily, Eve chooses this moment to wake up and cry, loudly, and I jump slightly as he quickly drops my hand and turns to the crib. I reflect for a moment on the bizarre thought that my hand feels distinctly _empty_ now. I shake my head and clench my fist tightly to try and get rid of the unpleasant feeling, focussing on Hal who's picking Eve up _in completely the wrong way _which is only serving to make her even more agitated. I try to bite my tongue but Eve's crying is getting steadily worse and I just _have_ to say something.

"No, Hal, look you've got to hold her closer to you, let her feel your body heat..." I balk as he glares frostily at me; Eve balanced precariously in his arms. "Or well, erm, sorry I didn't mean that th-that was poor wording I meant, you've got to, you know, make her feel safe and wanted. Don't be afraid to hold her tight."

Hal pulls a face that expresses he's not happy about it but does as I tell him, arms tightening so that he's hugging Eve against his chest. Eve's cries hush almost immediately, and when he rocks her slightly she sighs and blinks sleepily up at him. He's really got the hang of holding her and I smile at both of them proudly as he grins boyishly in my direction, face completely lighting up and dimpling sweetly. His smile fades a little and he clears his throat slightly, then says urgently and quietly "If I tell you something, do you promise you won't tell Tom?"

I giggle slightly then realise that he's deadly serious, eyes wide and mouth pulled down at the corners. I immediately become more sombre and nod, now slightly worried about what he's going to say.

He searches my face swiftly and then nods as if satisfied by what he sees there. "I, well, I took your advice. I'm trying to be more...fun" His face contorts slightly in distaste. "Anyway, the other day I, er...I pulled a face at Eve and she seemed to find it rather amusing. I know how _pernickety _you are about the progress of her development so I thought you'd like to know"

My eyes widen and for a second I'm insanely jealous.

"You mean, she laughed? At you? Hal! Why didn't you tell me?" He shrugs and I sigh in exasperation. "Well go on then! Show me!"

"There is nothing on this planet that would induce me to pull asinine faces at an infant in the presence of a fully grown adult."

"Do it, or I'll go through your pristine, first edition books while you're at work, and on one of the pages I'll draw a tiny smiley face, _in ink_, and I won't tell you which one I've done it on."

Hal looks absolutely scandalised. "You _wouldn't._" he breathes.

"Try me."

He glares icily at me for a whole minute, then looks back down at Eve, sighs witheringly and pulls his tongue out, before contorting his face into a weird grimace. Eve lets out a full on little person laugh, smiling so widely that she shows off her gums and her face reddens adorably. There just aren't words for how happy I am that despite all the odds, we seem to be doing something right because she's _laughing and she sounds just so loved and happy_. Hal relaxes his face and glances at me, chuckling quietly and bringing his hand round to tickle under her little chin, waggling his finger gently when she wraps her tiny fists around it. The picture of the big, strong, scary, _handsome _vampire cradling the tiny baby and laughingly making faces down at her makes me ache for both the man and the baby to really be _mine. _

A flash of guilt runs through me. As much as I've crushed _ever so slightly _after Hal, I've never _wanted him, like thought of the actual prospect of being in a proper relationship and thought of him in an 'oh we're such a couple look at us' way. _It's been purely _fancying, _and this sudden shift panics me. It also doesn't help that seeing him with Eve reminds me of another handsome vampire cooing over a tiny baby in a certain homely little kitchen in Bristol. I manage to make my excuses and get out of the room before the first tear falls down my cheek.

I run swiftly down the stairs but my legs give out before I reach the bottom and I sit down heavily, hands clutching desperately at the banister and head bowed as silent tears fall down my cheeks and drip onto the grey wool of my leggings.

And then the door bell rings, and it's like the whole house freezes.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews they made me smile! I love reading them so keep them coming! I'm just as torn between Hal and Mitchell, they're both amazing and I'm just happy they managed to find someone as awesome as Damien Molony to take over as leader of the pack. And talking of Damien Molony, I believe I made a promise to share my top 50 count down of all-time hottest actors? Well, coming in at number 2 we have the beautiful Darren Criss. Because he's supermegafoxyawesomehot and his voice makes me faint. So yeah, 5****th**** chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Ah, I don't own Being Human. Hence my weird blend of happiness and sexual repression.**

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As a human, I _hated_ war.

The memories I hold of being alive, truly alive, before I ran from death and chose this walking, talking shambles of an afterlife, are vague and hazy at best. The _feelings, _however, the pure, undiluted sensations, are practically tangible, much more so than details and particulars of the people and moments that shaped me. I sometimes think that it is better this way, much better that I can't torture myself with memories of a life that I long for but can't have any more. But then I remember loving the whores that were my mothers, and it hurts me that when I close my eyes to immerse myself in the recollection of their many kindnesses, I can't see any of their faces, can't evoke any of the times they comforted me and held me in a mother's embrace, no matter how hard I try. War, though, is glorious technicolour, a riot of vivid emotions and snapshots of feeling as sharp as the whips I used to flog insolent peasants. I remember the hunger that clawed at my brain and cramped my stomach. I remember the sustained trickle of terror that contaminated everybody, a feeling that began at the bottom of my spine and rose til I could barely stand it. I remember a constant, stabbing grief which crippled my mind and soul and most of all I remember the indescribable pain of a steel tipped, midnight blue lance tearing a jagged hole in my side. Then the draining, dizzying feeling of so much...b-blood, oozing into the snow.

As a vampire, _yes,_ well, war was a different story. I was Lord Harry, a great warrior and leader, riding through the countryside on my grand charger and wielding weaponry to rival that of Kings'. I inspired courage and fear and respect in men and I was as changeable as the weather and as cold and cruel as the blizzards that used to tear at my lungs when I was a simple, lowly foot soldier. War became an opportunity for me and my loyal disciples. Battle fields were like banquet tables, and we gorged on the terrified and the dying and the dead. Deaths were commonplace, casualties were high and if the odd soldier disappeared well, so what? People would whisper _coward, traitor,_ or sometimes not even notice, and then battle would begin again and no one would spare a thought for their fallen comrade. Yes, war was good for us.

In 1939, when war ravaged the whole world for a second time, I kept a low profile, playing the tourist with Ivan and Daisy. We toured through the Allied and German trenches, and scoured the pock marks of no man's land, killing indiscriminately and observing the devastation. Even I, in all my 500 years, had never seen such death and destruction. I'd seen humanity at its lowest and filthiest, but this...well this was spectacular in its depravity. Humanity's capacity, its primeval _urge_ to tear itself and the world apart has always amazed me, and never in history had this talent been more on display than during those 6 years of war. I watched quietly as humans invented novel, imaginative methods of killing each other, and created bombs and bullets of such power and ferocity that they blackened the sun. I remember that it excited and fascinated me. Now it just makes me feel sick.

The air raids in particular enraptured me. This war had shown me that humans were not content killing on land and sea anymore. They attacked from the _skies _now, swarms of droning, buzzing terror approaching from the horizon and unleashing hell. I killed an English pilot once. It was 1942 and I was in Lübeck in Germany, a beautiful medieval town that I'd first visited when I was newly made and which was now under attack from Allied bombs. The Germans had obviously retaliated and I had watched as a plane had been shot down, spiralling gracefully towards the ground with delicate plumes of smoking twirling through the air like ribbons around a dancer as it had plummeted. I'd seen the pilot parachute rapidly out and had been seized by a sudden desire to hunt him down, finally finding him about a mile out of town and sat in a field with his parachute still attached and legs splayed like a child's, just staring into the middle distance as if waiting for something. The bloodshot whites of his blank blue eyes burned in the darkness and I watched the young lad carefully as I informed him that I was going to kill him with an awful flippancy that had come so easily to me back then. He barely flinched, just continued to stare, ashen faced, at the horizon_. _I grabbed the lapels of his navy blue uniform and dragged him to his feet, and before I tore out his throat, I asked him why he wasn't afraid and calling for his God like they always did. He'd said, quite calmly, that he'd seen enough and done enough to know that there wasn't a God any more. Not for him anyway. And then he'd closed his eyes and bared his throat.

So for a wild moment when I walk into the living room to demand just who _the hell was at the door and had someone at least checked that they didn't have a bloody burn on their arm before they let them in like damn fools? _I stare at the figure sitting companionably on the sofa with Annie and freeze, panicking that it is the British pilot I killed all those years ago, back to wreak revenge. And then he glances up at me, looking politely puzzled, and says "Who's this chappy then?"

I frown down at him and begin to say, with not a little hostility, "I believe, 'chappy', that I could ask you the same bloody question, so just-"

"Hal!" Annie interrupts, rather rudely I feel, whilst making furious faces and rising rapidly from the sofa, "This is Sykes!"

She throws her arms out as if announcing the Messiah, and glares at me when I remain completely unimpressed by the information.

"He helped me, a lot, with my ghosting...abilities, back when I lived in Bristol! He was an absolute wonder, honestly Hal, you'd have been so impressed! We met on a Tuesday and- hang on actually, Sykes, was it a Friday? Because you know the postman was delivering down West Street so I'm not entirely sure and, oh my gosh, wow I just remembered the postman I used to talk to! Well I say talk to, the conversation was _incredibly_ one-sided. Oh, erm, anyway, yes, anyway so I was walking along and chattering away and then I look over and in an alley off the street there's this man lying on the floor all surrounded by policemen, and I thought that was _very _odd, so..."

I allow Annie's chatter to fade into the background, as usual, and opt instead to stare at our visitor. He's listening attentively to Annie, occasionally nodding along and smiling where appropriate, the light shining off his slick, overly Brylcreemed hair. _I'm sorry but even in the 40's men managed to abstain from using that much Brylcreem, Jesus, it looks like he's plastered it on with a shovel. _I'm reluctant to admit it but he does cut a rather dashing figure in his Royal Air Force uniform, all pressed navy lines with a trim belted waist and broad shoulders. He does seem to be paying an _extraordinary_ amount of attention to Annie. Over the past few days what I feel towards Annie has become unduly complicated due to a few, let's say _situations _that we have found ourselves in, but as..._fond_...as I am of her, I would be the first to admit that she is sometimes the pseudo-living embodiment of the phrase 'Of those who say nothing, few are silent'.

"...and that's what happened." Annie concludes, "He saved my life, just like that, and I knew that-"

"Annie, no, stop, I didn't '_save your life'. _You were doing fine on your own I just, you know, helped out a little bit." He grins charmingly in her direction and I notice with consternation that she's _giggling_. Actually _giggling. _At him, the idiot who clearly doesn't live by the maxim 'less is more', particularly when it comes to hair product use. In fact, she doesn't stop for a good minute, her face shining and her mouth smiling so wide that I can see all of her white teeth.

She never beams or giggles at me like that. Not even when I stayed up all night to help her with little Eve's mobile. Not even when I sat on a cold floor comforting her as she cried. _Not even _when I turned my back on my race and staked the vampire that had once been my loyal servant. I take an instant dislike to this-this..._intruder, usurper, opportunist, old-fashioned creepy overly-gelled cad of a ghost._...friend of Annie's.

She's sat too close to him, and from my vantage point perched awkwardly on the armchair opposite I see her place a hand on his arm, and begin to ask him what brings him to Barry. I grip the arms of my chair and for a second it takes every single lesson in control Leo ever taught me not to stride over there and pull Annie to me and kiss her senseless so that that _stupid, slimy idiot _knows without a shadow of a doubt that she's _mine _and no one-

Shit. Where the hell did that come from?

I panic and feel myself begin to touch my finger tips to my thumbs. Although I try my best to focus my thoughts on the rhythm and tempo of the touches I can't block out the confused, tangled and above all possessive thoughts and feelings racing around my head. _The Moment in the Living Room_, as I like to call it, must have affected me much more than I first thought. I had been inexpressibly and inexcusably close to threading my hands through that beautiful, dark hair and bending down to capture those soft, pliant lips in a kiss. I can't help but imagine it now, tuning out the two _old pals_ and thinking instead about _how I would pull her down onto the sofa, press my body against her soft feminine form and watch her cheeks colour as I kiss gently down her swan like neck, daring to press my lips to her décolletage before moving back up to claim her lips. I can practically feel her hands clutching my shoulders and her gasps gusting across my cheek-_

"Hal, are you OK?" I look up to see her bewildered, deer-like eyes staring at me, and I realise that I'm practically panting and my hands are locked in a vice-like grip on the arms of my chair. I nod tersely and feel my cheeks heat strangely, which confuses me and seems to amuse this Sykes character. I glare at his smirk then duck my head as I realise to my horror and shame that I'm _blushing. _500 year old vampire old ones _do not blush. Jesus what the hell is Annie doing to me?_

I keep my head bowed as they talk, following the intricate patterns of the frankly _gaudy _carpet and not participating in their conversation at all. _They seem to be getting on fine without me anyway_, I think sullenly, and that painful thought only serves to stoke the fires of my raging jealousy. Because I realise now that I am indeed jealous, hugely jealous, of the ease with which this stranger is apparently able to talk to Annie fluently and constantly, _Jesus for almost an hour now, _and how easily he holds and comforts her when he asks what happened to 'her two dads' and she bursts into tears. I cringe and shrink even more into myself as I remember an eerily similar situation, in which all I could do was hold her hand and get her to make me a cup of tea, for Christ's sake. She seems to welcome his embrace, pillowing her curly head on his shoulder and snuffling softly against him. He cheers her up 'in a jiffy' as he describes it, with a few well placed words and a gentle squeeze, and soon enough Annie's tinkling laugh and the pilot's low chuckles punctuate their chatter again, yet another reminder that Brylcreem is 'fun' and symbolises better days for Annie and has never threatened or frightened her or been caught off guard by her in the shower; basically the suave idiot is everything that I'm not. I bet he'd have remembered to lock the damned door. And he's just the pathetic, obsessive type that would have probably thought about changing the batteries in the tape player before they ran out as well, the bastard.

Their chatter eventually dies down after an absurd amount of time and Annie begins to insist that Sykes stays with us for a while. He nods quickly after her proposal, shooting a furtive glance at me then smiling back at Annie when she offers to put him in the guest room. They both stand so that Annie can show him the way and install him there, and I finally have one consolation.

He's short. Ha.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry this has been a long time coming. University is hard and bubbles and flatmates are enticingly devilish creatures who won't let me work. Thank you for your reviews, they were lovely and perfect please keep them coming I love knowing what you think! And so, without further ado, may I present chapter 6? Hope you enjoy!**

**BTW, actor number 3? David Tennant. Because he's Casanova and Benedick and The Doctor and Hamlet and Sir Arthur Eddington and Barty Crouch Jr. all rolled into one gorgeous Scottish package of awesomeness. **

**Disclaimer:** **Listen Count Duckula, I don't own Being Human, it isn't mine. And my bedroom was most certainly not like the Discovery Channel last night.**

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Music has always seemed magical to me. When I was little, whenever my parents would argue because Dad had done something ridiculous yet again_ like try to fix up a shelf but actually end up practically demolishing half the wall, _and Mum was mad, he would blare out her favourite, cheesy 70s pop, grab her and waltz around the living room until her frowns turned to laughter and my sisters and I joined in, swirling and spinning around them. It seemed to me that music was able to overcome anything, even my mother's rage, which, when I was little, was undoubtedly the most terrible thing in the world. I remember how whenever she shouted at me I would run and turn on the radio, a tactic which never failed to crack that stony exterior and melt her for just one important second, just so that I could see she was still human and still my lovely _Mum and there was nothing to be scared of and she would always love me, always_, before the mask slipped back and I was suitably scolded.

All I know is that now, whenever I'm sad, or hurt, or angry, music never fails to soothe me.

I never even told Mitchell this, but sometimes when everything gets just that little bit too much, I switch on the stereo in the attic and turn the music right down, so that it's barely a whisper, and focus so hard on just _listening_ that every other worry just melts away. It always reminds me of the shiver that ran down my spine when I was seven and couldn't sleep, so I turned my stereo on and kept the volume low, pressing my ear flush against the speaker so that I wouldn't wake my parents. I swear that I concentrated so hard on picking out Ronan Keating's voice that I could feel the base winding through me, tangling me up and carrying me away from the nightmares that had been chasing me.

So between my secret love of music, and Hal's thumping, throbbing willingness to embrace almost anything that features a few notes being played at almost the right time in nearly the right order, I suppose it's no surprise that Honolulu Heights is once again thrumming with music. Hal has begrudgingly, and with a _lot _of nudging from me, allowed us to bring his precious old gramophone downstairs and put on a few records. He's sulking in his armchair with a copy of the Independent, and although I occasionally throw pointed questions his way his short and monosyllabic answers indicate that he has no intention of joining in the conversation.

Sykes is chattering away to Tom, nursing Eve with a natural ease that Hal is obviously stupidly jealous of. Sykes has been here for nearly a week now, and has taken quite the shine to Eve, cuddling her whenever possible and even going so far as to _ask to be on the rota_. Which, believe me, is unprecedented.

I tip my head back for a minute, closing my eyes and allowing Tom and Sykes' conversation to wash over me, Eve's occasional coos punctuating the talk and Hal making a great rustling show of turning the great pages of his broadsheet. I sigh with satisfaction and allow my strawberry and kiwi tea to warm my ghostly fingers, feeling almost human for a whole minute whilst a scratchy silence descends and the song changes. My peaceful moment is shattered when Sykes lets out a staccato cry, and my eyes snap open just in time to see him hand Eve over to Tom, who's looking just as confused as I am. Free of his tiny burden, Sykes springs to his feet, straightens his impeccable uniform and marches over to me, clicking the heels of his polished shoes together and holding out his hand with a wink.

"May I have this dance, Madam?" He says, with a crooked smile, and I'm suddenly overcome with a shyness that consumes me, making my cheeks burn and my thoughts turn to mush.

"Oh Gosh, well, yes! Ha! I mean, not that I'm very good at dancing, I mean, I _can, _obviously I've danced before, but-" I'm incredibly flustered for some reason, and his kind, steady eyes on me are making everything that bit worse. He gently takes my half empty mug of tea from me and sets it down on the side table, then grabs my hand and pulls me up, laughing at my nervous giggles. I recognise the song, the distinctive and fast paced beat of Benny Goodman's Band playing Swing, Swing, Swing unmistakable.

"I loved this song when I was alive!" Sykes says, his eyes brighter than I've ever seen them, "Oh yes, we'd dance the night away to this, show them GIs a thing or two!"

He tows me to the centre of the living room and wraps his right arm around my waist, pulling me against him and clicking his fingers in time to the music. I rest my left hand against his chest to steady myself and I'm pleasantly surprised by how strong his chest feels under my palm. The navy wool of his uniform is soft against my fingertips and I giggle as he sways us vigorously in time to the music, clasping my free hand and twirling us around until I'm slightly dizzy. He kicks his legs out and swings me an arm's length away, displaying his rather fancy footwork, and I'm triumphant when I match his steps, watching his eyebrows lift in shock as he watches my feet kick and jump as swiftly as his. Well, please. You couldn't _be _in my family without picking up a few moves. I giggle and he pulls me to his side with mock-seriousness, frowning imperiously whilst wrapping his arm across my waist and throwing our joined hands in the air again.

Tom's grinning and chuckling away, babbling down at baby Eve in his lap and helping her clap her chubby little hands in time to the music. I suddenly feel so carefree and happy and _light _that I can't help but clutch Sykes close to me as he spins me around, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek then laughing loudly and blushing slightly as he sends a roguish wink my way before spinning me out-

Straight into Hal. I bump fully into him and stagger inelegantly but he quickly reaches down a hand to steady me.

"May I step in?" Hal murmurs, glaring down at me, and I glance to Sykes, watch as he nods curtly, gaze trained upon Hal as his smile falters slightly.

I expect Hal to be awkward and fumbling. I don't expect him to slip his arm confidently around my waist and pull me flush against him, chest to chest. I can feel every breath that he takes, and his hazel eyes bore into mine with such intensity that I'm practically hypnotised. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I'm distracted as I follow its progress across the smooth, plump, soft looking flesh, biting my lip as he swallows and my eyes are drawn back to his.

Then the record ends, and there's just silence.

I'm suddenly eaten up with the realisation that Tom and Sykes are staring at us, still standing stationary on that worn patch of carpet under the lampshade, Hal's arms entwined around me and my hands planted firmly against his chest in the classic 'Mills and Boon' _damsel in distress _position. I come to my senses with a gasp and wrench myself free.

"Well!" I exclaim, rather too loudly and airily. I keep my head down and rush over to the sofa to claim my most invaluable escape weapon; Eve. "Wasn't that a lot of good f-fun? I _really _enjoyed that, it was just lovely and, yes, well Gosh! It's just about Eve's bed time, I really must get off and put her to bed, thank you Tom, yes I will be fine, _I _am fine, everyone's fine!" I pause as I scoop Eve up from Tom's lap, realising that I'm echoing Hal's words. I shake my head slightly to clear it and settle Eve against me properly, darting out of the room and managing to avoid the confused, hurt and angry looks that are being shot at me.

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I'm settling Eve down in her nursery and still attempting to cool my cheeks when I hear somebody thundering up the stairs. Hal bursts through the door, slamming it shut behind him and causing Eve to jump then squawk loudly in protest. I gather Eve to me again and shush Hal, flapping my hands at him and staring at him indignantly.

"Hal! I've just settled her! How _dare _you, you..._angry, pillocky...door slammer!_" I hiss, too confused and angry with him to realise just how stupid I sound.

He stares at me incredulously, running his hand through his hair and ruffling it absent-mindedly. Even in my livid state I can't help but notice the completely adorable way his hair is rumpled, the soft chestnut locks sticking up patches where he's tangled his fingers in them. Gosh, he's so _handsome_.

Crap. Whatever this is really needs to stop.

I lower a now sleeping Eve tenderly back into the crib, pausing for a moment to watch her little tummy rise and fall with the rapid, huffy movements that I'm so used to now. I settle her down, making a show of tucking her blankets in and arranging her toys in the desperate hope that the gorgeous and clearly angry vampire in the corner will leave. He doesn't, and I straighten up before nodding to the door, indicating that we'll talk about the occurrence of yet another awkward and embarrassing moment between us outside where we can't disturb my baby.

He follows me out and I close the door gently. He rounds on me as soon as the door clicks to.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" He whispers harshly, and it comes as a complete shock that he thinks I've done something I should be sorry about. If anyone should be sorry, it's _him, _for being an insufferable _prick_. "I can't believe you!" He continues, "Dancing a-a-and laughing and making a _show _of yourself in front of Eve! With _him _no less! It's insane, Annie! It's-it's indecent!"

I draw myself up, and muster up every scrap of dignity I have. "I have done nothing wrong, Hal, but I'm deeply sorry if watching me enjoy myself _offended _you. Next time, however, I would thank you to kindly keep your own twatting opinions to yourself, because I could not give a flying..._fart...monkey _what you think!"

Hal's eyes narrow and his cheeks tinge red, brow creasing and eyebrows drawing together to create such an almighty frown that I recoil slightly. For the first time I see Lord Harry in him, and I remember the whispers and hints at what _fussy, rather sweet but mainly grumpy and slightly neurotic _Hal is capable of, and I'm...I'm frightened. Just for a fleeting second, but it's long enough to fluster me and make me lose what little control I had left. The light above us in the hallway flickers ominously.

"Well, you may not care what I think," he spits viciously, his mouth falling from its frown and twisting into a condescending sneer as he speaks, "but what about Eve and Tom? Do you think it was wise to parade your new paramour around in front of them? I'm sorry, but I find it distasteful, at the very least!"

"Paramour? What?"

"Oh!" His eyes widen and a look of savage amusement crosses his face. "So you're still courting are you? Well I can safely say that won't last long if they way he practically drools at you is anything to go by."

Understanding dawns, and I'm so angry I swear I turn scarlet. "_Drools_? How could you even-"

I'm practically screaming now and Hal's bellowing back, all pretence of keeping quiet for Eve's sake forgotten a while ago.

"Have you not _seen _him? Swanning around like he's fucking Casanova! I've seduced a ridiculous amount of women, so will you just remember that, get over your idiocy and listen to me!" He closes his eyes, lowers his shoulders and takes a forced, deep breath before continuing in a lower register, speaking slowly as if to a child, "I know how a man..._behaves _when he is enamoured with a woman. He has designs upon you, and trust me, they are most definitely not honourable!"

The light is practically flashing at this point, almost thrashing in the air as it swings violently on the chord that suspends it from the ceiling. I choke on air and for a second we just stare at each other, me sputtering indignantly while Hal breathes rather more heavily than strictly necessary. You know, for a dead man. This thought finally shocks me into speech and I manage to choke out a disbelieving "Hal! How dare you? Sykes is a _gentleman_! And-and his attentions are completely honourable and above board and everything th-that is _moral _and...h-holy!"

I wince because that sounded a lot better in my head, but the principle still stands. "And anyway," I unwisely press on, ignoring the rattling of the light, "what does it matter to you what his _intentions _are? It's none of your business!"

Hal runs his hands through his hair in frustration and stalks closer to me. I hardly register that we're barely a breath apart now, too intent on cudgelling Hal into submission to pay attention to such trivial things as personal space and proximity to certain vampires that I may totally fancy the pants off.

"You just don't understand Annie, do you?" He hisses at me, voice low and dangerous, and in a normal situation that intense, deep murmur _that's practically like a groan_ would have sent shivers down my spine _and Ok yes maybe one little shiver still manages to creep its way down _but I steadfastly ignore its existence because I'm so _angry_ and frustrated and _hurt_ that I can barely think straight. I shake my head in an effort to calm down, screwing my face up in what I'm sure is a ridiculously unattractive grimace in an effort to focus and stop myself from dropping the heavy light fittings on top of the stupid _twat _in front of me, because I'm not a common poltergeist and George would most definitely not approve.

"No, Hal. I really don't fucking _understand_." I snarl, with just as much venom. "Sykes is like...he's like a breath of fresh air! Don't you get how nice it is for me to have him in the house? Why do you have to twist everything? Can't you just be pleased that he's here and helping me and making me happy?"

"No! He's a-he's a_ usurper_!"

I laugh derisively "What the hell are you on about now?"

"It should be me!" He exclaims violently, pressing his finger against his chest, "I should be the one making you laugh and dancing with you in the living room! I should be the one who makes you happy and coos over Eve with you and puts up with the frankly obscene amounts of tea you make! That's why it's my _fucking _business, Annie, that's why I care so much!"

I can't speak. Crap, I just. No.

Above us, the light bulb fizzes and sparks.

"Why the hell does _he_ get to have you?" Hal shouts at me, "Why the fuck does that Brylcreemed _douche_ of a pilot get to have you and I don't?"

The sound of splintering, shattering glass echoes through the narrow hall.


End file.
